English: Cover of the fantasy fiction magazine Avon Fantasy Reader no. 13 (1950) featuring “The Love Slave and the Scientists” by Frank Belknap Long. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I can’t even believe the last time I posted on here was in May! Awful. I was expressing myself in my poetry and jewelry work for a while. I am sure that has a lot to do with it. Regardless, here is a LONG over due update.
Back in December i had posted about Pop, my step grandfather. I mentioned how he had kidney failure and wasn’t doing so hot. On June 24th he passed away at my parents house with a hospice nurse, his wife and my father and step mom by his side. My little sister came and stayed with me while this all took place. All of my time during this ordeal was spent caring for her, looking after her, just trying to get her through. At the funeral I stayed with my other grandmother and Dad‘s side of the family. A group I have struggled getting close to since I was a teenager. My grandma hugged me while I sobbed. I pulled it back together and when I got home, fell apart. I drink constantly. It’s been over a month and i just can’t seem to move past.
My new found alcoholism gives way to desperation. I sleep with the Smoker after almost 6 months of being apart. I sleep with the Ex after 2 or 3 years of being apart. I kiss men, take dirty pics and become anyone who will listen’s virtual whore. I’m rejected over and over. My sex drive is ruling and ruining everything.
And just when I think it won’t get any worse or any more painful – these men I love and I hate take it one step further. I have not truly loved many in my life. I have had 3 great loves. My first boyfriend P when I was 15 and 16. The first person I ever fell in love with, The Reader. And the man I thought I loved and would marry – The Ex. The rest were just filler who could come and go.
The Ex and I start fighting over him airing some of my dirty laundry on Facebook. In the fight he tells me that I am the only woman he’s ever loved. That he’s mad and jealous and angry. It strikes a chord. We start talking more. I invite him over get crazy drunk and screw him. It happens 2 more times. He brings some clothes to leave here and I give him a drawer.
The fucking Smoker – ex boyfriend, old friend, gossipy bitch. He and The Ex are friends. So when The Ex tells him he’s found out someone else was interested in him and he was going to go for it, immediately runs to my house to tell me. Naturally I get frustrated. I guess I wasn’t expecting that. I also didn’t think I had such complex feeling about the situation. It throws me for a loop and i spend an entire morning on my couch listening to Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri over and over while sobbing. LATER THAT SAME DAY, the greatest ex of them all, The Reader, calls me.
The Reader has finally gotten a cell phone. I had been slowly kind of pulling myself away from him. After finally telling me he wasn’t really into the idea of a relationship with me, I told him I was done. Look me up when you know what you want pal.
So on this day of all days he leaves me a message saying he needed to talk to me. It was important. Since the Reader rarily does this sort of thing, I buckle at a moment of weakness and call him.
We make some small talk. So what was so important I ask. He says he misses me. He has issues expressing himself he explains. He tells me he thinks I’m beautiful. He tells me he loves me. He tells me three times he loves me in the course of the conversation. I struggle to say it back. Please don’t break my heart again. I am hesitant to let myself fall again. But the love for this guy, it never stops. He is the only person I ever felt love at first sight with.
Second sight really. The Reader and I met in high school. He was dating my friend Rachel. I was the only one of her friends who liked him. So we started hanging out more often. I meet him again when I am 20. I have a boyfriend at the time. I walk into my friends house to see her. The Reader is sitting on a couch in the living room alone, smoking pot. He’s staring at me intensely, I’m looking back. Then he starts to laugh and hands me the bowl. We’re sitting next to each other and just smiling and smoking. Somewhere in that span of 5 minutes – I love him. I feel this electricity. He’s in my head. I think of him constantly – even though I have a super hot boyfriend. Super hot turns into a super dud. The Reader is everywhere I go. He’s walking trouble and I was chasing after him like he was The Beatles. I fell so fucking hard. He played it cool. I’d get little glimpses of love from him. He’d sing song lyrics to me, hold my hand and never let go. Every once in a while I’d get a kiss so deep it would melt me to my core. His friends would encourage me by letting me know that he normally wasn’t like this with girls.
I am so afraid of him. No one can hurt me the way he can. If he loves me I hope he means it. I have waited for years for him. I will love this man until I die. I am ride or die for this one fucking guy. It makes me sick sometimes. I know all of the worst things about him, and still I come running for more. Jesus. I don’t know if this is right or wrong.
I am trying to not drink. I have gone 2 days with no alcohol. I’m also going to try slowing up on the weed and pill use. It’s too much and I hate myself for it. It’s going to be difficult. I am dependent on everything but me. It needs to change.
Related articles
- A Self- Proclaimed Boyfriend (chaoticsoulzzz.wordpress.com)
- Lena Dunham: Memories of an elusive boyfriend. (newyorker.com)
Biggigity Switch 